


Stages of Grief

by akisazame



Category: Persona 3
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-20
Updated: 2009-02-20
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:26:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akisazame/pseuds/akisazame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter what happens, they always have each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stages of Grief

_Monday, 5 October, 2009, 2:56am_

He knew it was her from the way she opened the door, forcefully, without bothering to knock. She never knocked. It wasn't because she was rude; if he ever went to her room, he probably wouldn't knock either. They understood each other that way.

There were footsteps as she approached, then nothing. He was lying on his bed, on his side and facing the wall, his eyes closed but not sleeping. The events of that night's Dark Hour kept replaying themselves in his mind, and he felt like crying but the tears were locked behind that impenetrable wall he'd spent his entire life building. And now the only people allowed on the other side of that wall were dead.

Except for her.

He didn't have to turn and look at her to be able to envision the look on her face. She was standing there with her mouth just slightly open, eyebrows knit together as she tried to find the right words. She was a great motivational speaker, but that was when she was in front of the whole school, with a monologue she'd meticulously polished. But sometimes, when it was just the two of them, she would stumble. And he kind of liked it, that little bit of weakness that only he got to see.

Today, though, he was too overwhelmed by grief to feel anything else. It started in the pit of his stomach and grew outward, enveloping his entire body in an uncomfortable numbness.

She might have spoken, but her voice was on the very edge of his consciousness.

The mattress shifted slightly under her weight as she sat behind him, and the warmth of her hand on his shoulder felt very far away. He didn't move, couldn't make himself move. Wasn't sure if he wanted to move.

Her voice broke through to him then, quiet and cautious. "--all here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

His own voice sounded strangled, like someone else's voice and not his own. "You wouldn't understand."

The only response was the softness of her lips on his hair.

 

_Thursday, 5 November, 2009, 3:16am_

She hadn't even been able to make it to her bed like a dignified person, instead crumpling into a heap of clothing and limbs on the floor of her room. Sobs shuddered through her, but the tears didn't come. Not yet. It was still too soon, too fresh, too raw. It didn't feel real. Nothing felt real.

Her state of mind hadn't been such that she'd remembered to close the door behind her, so she wasn't surprised when she heard it creak slightly as he came in. There was only a split-second of hesitation in his footsteps, and then she felt his hands under her arms, strong but never forceful, pulling her up from where she'd fallen, and leading her to sit on her bed.

She managed to gather her breath and her nerve to the point where she could speak again. She wasn't sure if it was physical or mental weakness that made her unable to lift her eyes to meet his gaze. "That was unnecessary."

He seated himself next to her on the bed, as close as he could manage, his weight supporting her. "Maybe so."

It wasn't his words, or the way he said them, or the sound of his voice, or anything about him really. But that moment after he spoke was the moment she came unhinged, today's facade falling away along with all the others. She fell into him, burying her face in the soft wool of his vest, and the sobbing began anew. Still no tears, not yet, but dry sobs of anguish and loss and fear.

He didn't respond immediately, always so unsure of himself around other people. With her he was better about it, but only just. His arms wrapped around her a few seconds too late, the hand that stroked her hair was nervous and shaking, it took far too long for his lips to settle on her forehead. But anything else wouldn't have been so unequivocally _him_.

 

_Friday, 5 March, 2010, 11:56pm_

Somehow he knew that he would find her on the roof. Know someone that long, in that kind of way, and you just start to figure things out.

"It's not your fault, you know."

She had been standing at the edge of the roof with her back to the door, looking out over the city, over Japan, over this world. The world that he wasn't entirely convinced they had saved. Could you really call something saved when you lost so much in the process? She spun around when she heard his voice, startled, but not surprised. "I don't know why you would have that impression."

He took a few steps closer, then stopped, still keeping his distance. Still shy, somehow, after all this time. "Just a feeling I have."

Facing away again, so he couldn't see her face, she bit her lip and tried to blink away the stinging feeling in her eyes. "It's frustrating. We did everything we could and yet..." She trailed off, words unable to capture the depth of her disappointment, both in this world and in herself.

Another footstep echoed through the night air. He reached out a hand towards her, grabbed hold of her elbow at first. She turned to look at him then, and he recognized the faint redness in her eyes, a color that probably matched his own. Then her eyes dropped down to look at his hand on her arm, awkward and out of place. She raised an eyebrow at him, questioning and ever-so-slightly amused, and he gave half of a nervous laugh as he slid the hand down to grab hold of hers.

They didn't say anything else, didn't _need_ to say anything else. She twined her fingers between his and rested her head on his shoulder. The grief still burned inside him, and certainly inside of her as well, but it didn't seem quite so bad so long as they had each other.


End file.
